DEPRESSION AND THE SOCIETY

I have failed myself. This is the thought that keeps resonating in my mind. No matter how much I try to shake off the feeling that I have failed myself it still returns. I honestly do not know how I got here. I seem to have lost the once happy, bubbly little girl that was me.

I'm sitting in a doctor's office at the Teaching Hospital in my state. A psychiatrist unit to be precise I remember the first day I walked into the hospital with my mum, we were so certain I was suffering from Typhoid fever, the symptoms were there, extreme loss of appetite, inability to sleep at night and the fact that I was emaciating so drastically I was ordered to carry out a HIV test, it came out negative. So I was referred to see a psychiatrist because my symptoms were unusual. First came the feeling of fear and in a small corner of my mind relief. Because somehow I knew that I wasn't alright and I would find whatever was ailing me there, it's like I knew before then that I needed help. My mother puts a call to my father; I can feel his unbelief through the phone. Then my mother warns me not tell anyone about this, somehow I'm made to feel ashamed that I've been referred to see a psychiatrist, I have been failed.

I meet the psychiatrist, a man. He is kind and attentive, so i thought.

Yes I feel worthless and unworthy some days, I don't like going out. No I'm not in any relationship because I'm selfish and not giving, I do not have that type of energy a relationship requires. Yes, there was a point in my life I thought I didn't deserve any good thing (I still do). Yes I cut myself with a razor blade, it gives me some sort of high, I have this warped ideology that I deserve the pain. So I feel satisfied when I see the blood flow. You deserve to hurt; it's what my mind tells me. Yes I feel trapped like I can't get out of this sadness. But I don't tell him that I indulge in self-pity, I like to think that I don't have friends so I stay in my room with the curtains drawn so that the light will come in. I don't tell him that I prefer to sleep during the day so that I won't have to deal with people and small talk. I don't tell him that I don't sleep at night; I like the quietness and calmness that comes with the night. I like it that I don't have to pretend to be someone else other than the sad and loveless person that I am. I don't have to hide my tears at night, I can cry as much as I want, maybe pick up the blade and cut myself. They are a lot of things I don't say, because even I don't have that kind of courage yet.

He looks me in eye and says I have Clinical Depression otherwise known as Major Depressive Disorder. I know this already, I've always known this deep down, since I started experiencing it in 2012, but always afraid of speaking out. Because, you see where I come from people don't get depressed. It's something that no one wants to talk about; it's like a dirty secret that families hide. It's what fathers say "God forbid it" when they hear it about their child or family member. It is something that is pushed to the back and ignored like it doesn't exist. But it is always there, it's presence felt like an elephant in a room. It is what my family will do when we get back from the hospital. My father will ignore it and hope that it will disappear; my mother will blame the devil and pray about it, hoping it will disappear. But it doesn't disappear; it weighs me down with the fact that I have been left alone to fight this darkness. So I withdraw into myself, and I begin to cut myself again. My family has failed me.

I visit the hospital again, but this time I begin to see the doctor in a new light, in a way I didn't notice on my last visit. He asks me what makes me sad; I cannot give him a definite answer. And so I notice the way he talks to me, like I have no reason to be sad at all. He doesn't understand how someone who seems to have it all will be depressed. To him it is unacceptable. He says that I should stop thinking the negative thoughts and start thinking positively, somehow I have allowed this man who has studied psychiatry and taken an oath to protect those who suffer mental health issues to talk down on me and belittle my emotions, he doesn't understand what it feels like. I feel enraged, cheated even. I have been failed by the one person I had hoped will understand. So I leave and swear not to go back again.

Like an old wound that has been reopened, this is how I feel.

But what scares me is that my mind has found a way to numb my emotions instead of just dealing with it. Unlike before when my mind was able to go into my memory archive and retrieve a hurtful encounter that would mark the beginning of a depressive episode. This days I forget things, I forget what emotions I felt before, it's like my mind is fighting with the depression.

This is what it feels like my emotions have gone through. I hurt in places I didn't even know existed, my feet hurts badly I wonder how it can carry me still. But my feelings are numb. I have found a way to numb my emotions instead of just dealing with it. I'm good at hiding my pain these days one would hardly notice anything. Everyone thinks I'm getting better, so they all move on, except I don't. I fear it’s going to come out with such force one day when I least expect it to, and wouldn't that be a disaster?